


Rough Draft

by fancywaffles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes from Tales of the Champion with a sarcastic Male Hawke. (Or how Hawke graduated from flirtatious man-child to lovesick dork mage.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing?" Carver asked as he settled down next to Hawke.

Hawke was leaning heavily on his hand, watching Merrill braid little yellow flowers into Isabela's hair, while Isabela told her jokes.

"Trying to decide whether or not I find this arousing or adorable."

"This isn't going to earn us any coin, Brother."

Hawke tilted his head slightly to glance back at Carver, enjoying the way his younger brother blustered at the implication he'd only brought on himself. "Maybe Isabela would enjoy that, but Merrill--"

"What would I do?" Merrill asked, looking over at them, her fingers still lightly touching a strand of Isabela's hair.

"Damn elf hearing," Carver muttered to himself. "Nothing. We weren't--my brother was telling one of his jokes."

"Oh," Merril said. "Was it funny?"

"Yes," Hawke said the same moment Carver answered, "No."

"It isn't important, Merrill," Carver said, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

"Carver wants you to braid his hair," Hawke said.

Merrill, bless her, seemed to consider that seriously, looking over at the younger Hawke and down at the flowers fanned out over her lap. "His hair is very short. I could make you a crown."

"I--that was a joke, Merrill," Carver said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and hunching his shoulders a little.

"Oh," Merrill said, sounding a little disappointed.

"I'll take a crown," Hawke said, with a grin at her. "Even convince Varric to let you decorate Bianca."

"Illicit," Isabela said with a laugh. "But we should get going, kitten."

"Where are you off to?" Carver asked so quickly that Hawke didn't get a chance to.

Isabela shook her head. "Mustn't tell you everything, it would ruin the mystery."

"Since when do you hold anything back?" Carver scoffed.

Isabela's hands rested on her hips and one of the small flowers fell out of her hair as she stood. "Keep growing and maybe you'll find out, little Hawke." Her hips had the nerve of sashaying as she and Merrill walked out, Hawke almost fell out of his chair looking after her.

"Would you stop that," Carver said, kicking Hawke's chair so it rattled and he had to lean into Carver's arm to right it. "I don't want to hear you two--rutting."

"Rutting?" Hawke laughed.

"You know what I mean," Carver said, frowning at him. He was in such a mood. "The walls are thin."

Hawke couldn't help sigh his agreement. Living with Uncle Gamlen was something even his good humor was tiring of. "Before suggesting we prostitute our new friends you were trying to say something."

Carver glared at him, but at least got on the point. "It seems like we're doing the same work we doing before. One under the table job after another."

If they wanted enough to partner in the Deep Roads expedition, Hawke was going to take almost any job he could get. He was developing interesting company from it at least. "Yes, but now Athenril isn't getting her cut."

"I just think we're better than this. We should be."

Hawke sighed and rubbed his finger across the bridge of his nose. "Don't you _want_ out of Gamlen's little shack?"

"Maker yes."

"Finally," Hawke said, "something we agree on. Don't worry, Varric is coming by about another job and I'm sure Aveline has something less... smugglery for us to do if that doesn't work out."

"I'm ready," Carver said, always so willing since Lothering.

Hawke tried not to see so much of Bethany in Carver and tell him to run along home or track down Merrill for that flower crown. "Good, because fifty gold isn't easy."


	2. Chapter 2

"This tastes bubbly," Merrill said. It was hard to tell if she was confused or delighted by the prospect.

"Don't drink too much, Daisy," Varric said. "The bubbles aren't what get you."

"Get you what?" Merrill asked.

"Flat on your ass outside of the Viscount's Keep with nothing but your smallclothes, kitten." Isabela raised her own tankard and drank some down.

"That wouldn't be very warm," Merrill agreed.

"Uh oh," Varric said and gestured to the door, when Hawke looked in the direction he saw Fenris and Anders both trying to squeeze through at the same time. "Maybe we should've given Blondie and Broody different start times."

"They can get along for five minutes," Hawke said, then looked at the way Anders glared at whatever Fenris had said. "Or you know, at least magic their clothes off and have them fight it out in mud."

"I knew I liked you," Isabela said cheerfully.

Hawke lifted his own tankard at her and smiled back. Fenris and Anders had moved from the door towards the bar to make their orders. The barmaid was looking back and forth between them as if they were each demanding to go first.

"Aveline!" Hawke said, a little too loudly as his favorite guard made her way towards the table.

"Hawke," she said, looking at the seats near them and then taking the one farthest from Isabela.

"Did you bring your restraints, Big Girl?" Isabela asked.

"Don't start with me, whore," Aveline said, sharply.

"Now I really need mud," Hawke commented.

Isabela and Varric laughed, but Merrill only looked confused. "It'd be rude to track it in here, though that doesn't stop most people in the Alienage. Hawke, do you miss living near me?"

"Every day," Hawke said, reaching across the table to poke Merrill's nose. "Come by the estate whenever you'd like."

"Mmm, I might take you up on that," Isabela said, almost purring.

"Who invited Choir Boy?" Varric asked under his breath, before Hawke could respond.

"I invited everyone," Hawke said. "We all need to get to know each other better." Isabela's leg brushed his under the table. "It's good to have friends."

"I don't think being _more_ friendly is a worry we all have," Aveline said, but Hawke couldn't tell if that was directed towards him or Isabela.

Sebastian ignored the bar and made his way over, sitting down in the seat next to Aveline who didn't seem pleased by it. "Couldn't you have had this gathering somewhere else?"

"The Blooming Rose!" Isabela said and it was amazing how closely Sebastian and Aveline looked like each other with that expression. Maybe they were distantly related. Hawke would have to bring it up another time, when there was less chance of bloodshed.

"Infuriating," Anders was saying as he finally made his way towards the table, no drink in hand. Fenris was a step behind him carrying an entire bottle.

There was only one seat open and it was next to Hawke. They didn't run for it, but Hawke saw their pace increase. Aveline let out a harried sigh and Sebastian frowned.

"One of you could sit on my lap?" Hawke suggested, waggling his eyebrows at them. Hard to tell if the expressions on their faces were embarrassment or interest. Interesting.

"Or mine," Isabela offered, bless her.

"I'd offer too, but I think that'd be uncomfortable," Merrill said. "And I wouldn't be able to reach my drink."

"If there is no room, one of us should leave," Anders said.

"Yes," Fenris agreed.

Hawke rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Merrill, scoot a bit, will you?"

Merrill complied and then Hawke got out of the booth and offered the space. Both the underground mage and runaway slave elf hesitated and Hawke let out an exasperated breath. "Anders, if you'd please." He decided randomly. They'd both annoy Merrill, but they'd likely stab each other underneath the table if he didn't sit between them.

Anders took his time sliding into the booth, until Hawke finally slid back in himself and squeezed next to him. "Cosy," he commented and then gestured Fenris to sit down.

The elf hesitated, frowning as he passed his bottle from hand to hand. "Very well," he said finally and sat on Hawke's other side.

"Now," Hawke said and rested his arms on the top of the booth so that they were dangling around Fenris and Anders (though he was a little more careful of Fenris, spiky shoulder guards would be more painful than feathers). "Since we're all here... the next round's on me."

That was one thing they started to agree on and even though Sebastian drank nothing and Varric made Merrill switch to something more bubbly with less alcohol after her second, the night started to finally turn a little lighter.

"Can Justice get drunk if you get drunk?" Hawke asked Anders. Their thighs were pressed into each other and he had to wonder what it would be like if the other mage had taken his lap offer. His leg was so comfortably warm at the moment and there was a scent of old papers that always seemed to linger around Anders this close.

"No. Or... maybe, I haven't tested the theory, we are not as separate as you're implying and I don't drink much... anymore."

Hawke shifted a little, his left thigh was pressed into Anders's, but his right was barely touching Fenris, who was almost falling out of the booth talking to Isabela. His voice made a pleasant rumble when he spoke. "That can hardly matter once you're off the ship."

"What was, pre-Justice Anders like then?" Hawke asked, drawing himself back and trying not to split between the separate conversations. At least they were all sitting near each other, even if they’d splintered off into their preferred groups again.

"Distracted," Anders said, frowning at his drink. He seemed about to say he had to leave and then the rest of them would use that as an excuse and it would be another night with only the fun ones, which was not what Hawke wanted. They were all good to have around and they’d almost all died together more than once. He needed all of them.

Hawke's hand fell to stall Anders with a reassuring shoulder squeeze, but he was too drunk to pick correctly which hand, so instead of landing on feathers it skimmed over dangerously soft white hair and then patted sharp spikes on Fenris's armor.

Hawke hissed out in pain and Fenris immediately jerked around as if he were a startled stray dog. "Hawke?"

"Your hair is very soft," Hawke said, because he was a little drunk and his hand hurt. "Are the spikes to keep people from touching it?"

"I want to touch it," Isabela demanded.

"You're bleeding," Aveline said, she always sounded so put-out, like she was reigning in her children. They weren't even that far apart in ages.

"Blood magic!" Hawke mock-whispered. No one seemed to find it funny, especially not Merrill who was frowning. "Fenris's shoulders have ruined the mood."

His hand was throbbing a little and Aveline was right, it was bleeding. He frowned at it, trying not get blood all over his robes or the table. This was his favorite tavern in Kirkwall, he wasn’t going to get blood on it.

"Can't you heal him?"

"I can't, in here," Anders said, answering Merrill's question.

A napkin covered Hawke's hand and was tied tightly over the wound. "Why were you trying to touch my hair?" Fenris asked once it was bound. He seemed more confused than annoyed, it did nothing to change that unbearably sensual husk to his voice.

Hawke wished his friend were half as accommodating as Isabela and would catch on to the incessant flirting between arguments about whether or not to let the perfectly lovely apostates go or be locked away under Meredith’s bullying.

"It's nice," Hawke said, stupidly, looking up at Fenris. His eyes were so green. Then he laughed and pushed aside his drink. "Maker, I'm under. All right, Varric, tell us a story before one of these lovely people makes up an excuse to leave."

"Since you mentioned it--" Sebastian started, but there was a slight smirk.

"Andraste save us, he _can_ make a joke," Hawke said with a laugh. His hand felt warm, as if he could still feel Fenris’s skin against his own (he’d taken the gauntlet off for a moment to tie the bandage, Hawke had never seen him without it). Hawke shifted a little and ignored the way his heart was beating a little faster, it had to be the alcohol. "Fenris stop falling off the booth, I promise I will only think about touching you and not actually do it. Isabela will make no such claim."

Isabela nodded, as if to confirm that and Fenris moved closer into the booth with an annoyed grunt. His leg was pressed as firmly against Hawke's as Anders. This was quite a sandwich.

Hawke cleared his throat and tried to keep his attention across the table at his favorite dwarf. "All right, now, Varric... story..."

"Well, if you insist," Varric said, smiling and cracking his knuckles. "Did I ever tell you about the time..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hawke?"

"What?" Hawke asked, but he didn't wait for the answer. He was already making his way back down the mountain. He'd outpaced Merrill and Isabela, but Varric had kept up somehow.

Varric cleared his throat. "You usually negotiate."

"And they refuse and then we kill them anyway," Hawke said, stomping his feet into the ground so that he could feel the step hard in his leg. "Call it a time-saver."

"A lot of time-savers lately."

"There a point, Varric?"

" _Hawke_ ," Varric said again.

" _Varric_ ," Hawke mimicked back to him, frowning as the path bisected trees. Maybe he could flatten them with magic or burn the entire fucking forest to the ground so it would get out of his way. He stopped after a few paces, he couldn't remember if it was right or left, but either way he was no longer in a rush to get home.

The estate was empty.

"What?" he asked again.

"When Isabela is worried about you, something's wrong." Varric came around so that he stood in front of Hawke and looked up at him with a frown. Even in the Deep Roads, Hawke had never seen him look this serious.

"Are we mourning slavers now? Should I tell Fenris?"

"This isn't about them. You burnt the entire camp without blinking. I didn't even get to pull Bianca out."

Instantly a remark about a pseudo-sexual relationship with Varric's crossbow came to Hawke's mind, but he ignored it for once. "I'm fine, Varric."

"Look, Hawke, your mother--"

"Don't," Hawke said, sharply. "Don't."

"It doesn't take a writer to infer the context clues, Hawke. You're angry and with good reason, but you're also--"

"A mage," Hawke finished for him. "So I'm dangerous, so you're worried that I'll become an Abomination and tear down all of Kirkwall in rage? Or that I'll turn into a dragon and raze terror across the land?"

Varric frowned at him. "You're also my friend and I know you well enough to know that this isn't like you. You generally leave the scaring people to Aveline."

Hawke's snort was dry, unenthused and automatic, but it took some of the fight out of him. "This isn't the first time I've been through this, Varric."

It didn't get any easier, he just knew that eventually he'd stop being so angry and start laughing again. And _that_ thought made him even angrier. How could he laugh when Mother couldn't hear? The whole reason he'd started was to make her smile in return. Bethany and Father would smile too, even sometimes Carver. What was he going to do when there was no one left, listen to his own echo?

"How'd you deal with it then?" Varric asked. He made his voice like he was going to write it in one of his stories. Who in their right mind would want to read a story about Hawke?

"Drink, flirt, and sleep around," Hawke said. It wasn't an option now. It hadn't been an option three seconds after Fenris had run out of his bedroom. Nothing killed the mood faster than worrying he'd been so bad at sex he'd scared one of the most fearless people he knew. "It helped a little after Bethany. Father wasn't my fault and Bethany... it could have easily been me or Carver that ogre took down, but... sometimes I blamed myself, I know Mother and Carver blamed me. I was supposed to step up after Father died, Maker knows I have been, but what did it get me? Carver's off with the Wardens and my mother..."

He scoffed and shook his head.

"She was happy I was settling, that I'd been spending more time with Fenris... said it inspired her to take up on her own with--" He rubbed the heel of his palm hard into his eye. "She had light hair," Hawke said. "Before it went gray. Father used to call it honeyed wheat and then Carver and I would gag. Bethany thought it was the sweetest thing... you would have liked Bethany."

"Tell me about her," Varric said.

"A ray of sunshine," Hawke said, without a hint of sarcasm. "I could see her out of all us easily fitting the life Mother wanted so badly to reclaim. Carver can't get along with people and I don't know how to talk to Sebastian most days, let alone a noble with a less interesting backstory and accent, but Bethany was a delight."

He could picture Bethany at the estate, being dressed up by Mother in her old clothes. He thought maybe she'd like that, but it had been so long since he'd thought of her like that the image left as quickly as it appeared.

"I should have been there. I should have seen this coming. I should have _protected_ her."

"You're a hero, Hawke," Varric said. "Part of that means you don't get to save everyone, but you damn well try."

"And fail," Hawke said. His throat felt like it had an itch inside of it. "And fail again. Maybe you're not writing anything but a tragedy Varric. Maybe Fenris and Sebastian and Meredith are right and mages bring _nothing_ but trouble."

"I know a few freed slaves up the hill who'd disagree," Varric said. "I know one thing, Hawke. I'm writing you a happy ending."

"That doesn't mean I'll get one."


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't know why you rescued her at this cost," Sebastian's accent was incredibly attractive even when his words were this annoying.

"Of course, the Chantry can't consider a selfless act," Anders said.

Oh hurrah, they were fighting. It wasn't as if a giant Qunari had swatted Hawke's head like a fly, leaving him bandaged, bruised, and in bed (not the fun way) even with Anders healing him on a daily basis.

"If Hawke had died, it would not have been selfless. Kirkwall would be destroyed. He would not have made himself a martyr. Isabela could have atoned for her crimes and gone with the Qunari."

"She came back," Anders said. "With the book. She was selfish, but you can't compare what Hawke did to that."

"He threw himself in with her actions by defending her. I am not disavowing the bravery of the act itself, but look at him." Sebastian gestured to Hawke on the bed.

"I can hear you," Hawke said. "Also see. My vision stopped blacking out yesterday."

"I only meant that Kirkwall would be much worse without you than it would be without Isabela," Sebastian said. "On that much, I think even Anders and I can agree."

Anders frowned as if agreeing with Sebastian was the last thing he wanted to do, even if it was true.

Hawke snorted and then winced. "The Blooming Rose would miss her," he said. "They are a vital part of Hightown's economy, if they collapsed where would all the whores go?"

"You have plenty of room in your estate," Sebastian suggested. It was so hard to tell if he was joking.

"Is this a goodwill visit or do you need something?" Hawke asked.

Sebastian glanced at Anders and the other mage frowned at him. "Whatever you have to say can be said in front of me. Even if it's another suggestion of turning me in to the Templars. If you'd like to do that to Hawke too, you'd be welcome to try. He has more friends than Isabela."

"It's personal," Sebastian said, not rising to the bait, which only seemed to infuriate Anders more.

"Anders," Hawke said. "There are people in Darktown who need your help more than I do at the moment and the arguing is painfully loud. Let me be soothed by Sebastian's vibrato as he confesses his deepest secrets."

Anders looked at him, the critical eye of a healer, mixing with the annoyance of leaving him with Sebastian. "If that's what you want."

Hawke grabbed the other mage's wrist and smiled. "And thank you. I appreciate the lack of internal bleeding."

"I can do more tomorrow," Anders said. "It's better if the body rests a little between, you--" His voice broke off and he swallowed, removing Hawke's hand from his wrist before squeezing it and then passed Sebastian. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hawke," he said, with a pointed glare at Sebastian before leaving.

Wes took the opportunity the moment Anders was out the door to hop back onto the bed and flop down next to Hawke. The dog was warm and smelled horrible, but without being chided for Hawke needing his rest the mabari felt comfortable curling up next to him. Hawke scratched behind his ears and murmured a ‘good boy’ before looking back up at Sebastian.

"All right, let's have it."

"I haven't spoken with you much since your mother died. I wanted to offer my condolences."

Hawke had almost begun to feel better when the Qunari attacked the city. The Arishok fight had been (and still was) painful, but at least it was distracting.

"You... put her name up in the Chantry," Hawke said, slowly. "I do appreciate that."

"You're welcome to come to a service when you're feeling better," Sebastian said. "I think it would help."

"Surprised you didn't offer to bring the Grand Cleric here to convert me," Hawke said, dry and bitter. He felt his dog shift his head onto his lap.

"I know what it is like to lose parents," Sebastian said. "My Faith is what kept me moving forward."

"That and the revenge," Hawke retorted. He would have snorted, but knew it would hurt.

"The anger will burn you, maybe literally in your case. Having a belief in something greater than yourself helps when there is no cause for understanding. I believe that the Maker cares for us. You are my friend and a good mage. It isn't only your example that would do well in the Chantry."

"My reputation precedes me," Hawke said, leaning back on his pillows.

"Your soul," Sebastian said. "It could do with some support. I have been where you are and I do have something that can help. It's there if you want it."

It would be nice to know that everything could be easily solved by trusting in the Maker's plan, but that plan had killed more than half his family. It was difficult to have faith for anything after that. "Thank you, but no," Hawke said. "My payment to you is not making light of your offer."

"I appreciate that," Sebastian said, smiling and still not rattled. It was strange what things did and did not set the man off. "And I can ask if the Grand Cleric Elthina will come by. I know she appreciates what you did for Kirkwall as much as the rest of us."

"Maybe not quite so much as Isabela," Hawke said, pointedly.

"She doesn't seem to appreciate it at all," Sebastian said.

Hawke smiled. "You may know the Maker, Sebastian, but I know the pirate. It was worth the cost."

Sebastian did not look like he believed him. "If you say so, Hawke."


	5. Chapter 5

For some unknown reason Fenris had stopped reading out loud. It had taken months, but they were finally at a place of ease with each other (or at least enough of a place of ease that Hawke mostly given up the urge to bring up that night they'd slept together and Fenris had run off), but even so it remained between them as Fenris's lips pursed together and he glanced over the book brim at Hawke with a unreadable expression.

"This is... why would you choose this?"

"Because it's a book," Hawke said, leaning back in his chair.

Fenris looked... did he look flushed? It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of his abandoned estate.

"If you... I thought we agreed not to discuss..."

"Discuss what?" Hawke asked, genuinely confused and not at all thinking about swiping his tongue across that dip in Fenris's neck.

Fenris was frowning even more, he looked annoyed now, nothing new there. "Is everything a joke to you?"

"Usually."

The book slammed on the table and Fenris pushed himself to his feet. Was he really going to run away in his own estate? Hawke had to bite his tongue not to ask that. Then he looked over at the title of the book and laughed.

" _That_ is not what--Isabela's been rearranging things in the library. I meant to bring you an entirely different book." He leaned over to read a few lines upside down and then let out another snort. "Believe me, it could have been worse."

Fenris was still standing. He looked like a fennic, ready to startle at any moment. Hawke wished he had a way to make settle. He wished a lot of things, but he had to give up on one of them if he wanted Fenris to be comfortable around him again.

"She comes to your place often?" Fenris asked. Too much to hope for that he'd sound jealous.

"Everyone does," Hawke said. "Honestly, I like it. Still not used to having that much space, between being on the run and Lothering, Mother's much more invested in..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Mother _was_ much more invested in the nobility. I feel like there's too much that's empty."

He glanced around the still broken shell of an estate that Fenris was squatting in. "Perhaps, I'm talking to the wrong audience about that."

Fenris let out a short scoff--close to a laugh for him.

"You're welcome to come too," Hawke said. "You do know that?"

"I--thank you," Fenris said. The ease between them had vanished into the awkwardness that Hawke wanted to avoid.

"It's a shame," he said. "I really do love the book I meant to bring. I was hoping to hear it again. My father used to read it to us."

Fenris took a step forward, but leaned on the chair rather than sat on it. "Not the same subject?"

"No," Hawke said with a laugh. "Bethany would've been scandalized. Never could tease her like I did Carver." His smile twisted into something a little less funny. Maker, he missed them. "It's a story of a young boy who befriends a griffin."

"And?"

"I can't tell you the whole thing, I'll spoil it." Hawke was still smiling, at least the memory couldn't die. "It has a happy ending, I'll say that much."

"Good." Fenris still hadn't sat down.

"Isabela's book probably has several," Hawke added and Fenris responded with a low chuckle, it made Hawke's heart skip a beat. "You've been missing our weekly card game."

"I have..." Fenris trailed off. "I did not wish to intrude."

"On Isabela taking all my coin?" Hawke asked, lips twitching.

"It isn't my place."

"The only reason I'm spending more time with Isabela is because I see less of you," Hawke said. "The ratio has to balance itself out somehow. I can't always count on Carta attacks to get your attention."

Hawke would probably stop breathing before he stopped flirting, especially with the way even now Fenris seemed pleased by it. It was always the only thing he could do that Fenris seemed to like.

"Will the mage be there?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him. "Try to be more specific, Fenris. Apostate in front of you."

"Anders."

"Oh, no. Probably not. Not that he's not invited, but Anders has been fairly busy with his cause as of late."

"I notice you have spent a lot of time in Darktown," Fenris said. He was so bad at pretending to be casual about it.

Hawke smiled a little wider. "Watching me, are you?"

"No, that's--" Fenris sighed and rubbed the tips of his fingers against his forehead. "Perhaps you should come back with the other book... some other time."

"You don't want to learn how to write the dirty words Isabela says?" Hawke asked. He made it a joke, but mostly he didn't want to leave.

"Some other time," Fenris repeated.

Hawke sighed and lifted himself up. "In that case," he scooped the book up underneath his arm. "You can get your own smut."

Fenris smiled at him, but it was all wrong. Hawke resisted the urge to sigh again and made his way back to his nice empty estate. At least he had the dog to sleep with, unless Wes had given him over for Sandal again.


	6. Chapter 6

"I should be going," Fenris said, lifting himself out of his chair, it scraped against the floor with a loud creak.

"But we haven't taken all your money yet!" Isabela said, pouting.

Fenris chuckled. "That is exactly why I should be going."

"Can't be out too often in daylight, elf. What would people think?" Varric said, taking a drink of his ale.

"I do not think this counts as daylight, Varric," Fenris said, still sounding a little amused, or maybe Hawke was reading into it too much. "There are hardly any windows."

"Yes, that's... well it was good to see you," Hawke said, feeling like an idiot the moment it was out of his mouth. "Outside of rescuing strangers, fighting off Carta assassins, and age-old darkspawn."

At least he saved it. Or he thought he had, it was difficult to tell with the way Fenris would and wouldn't look at him before he nodded and left the tavern.

Hawke sighed.

"Careful," was all Isabela said with her mouth, but her waggling eyebrows said more.

"Was I _that_ bad?"

"The yearning was palpable," Isabela said and Varric nodding his agreement.

"I am trying not to..." Hawke was never bad at words, but in this instance he could only sum up his flurry of feelings with a vague hand gesture.

"This is why I don't put stock in relationships," Isabela said, shuffling her deck. "They take all the fun out it. Then it's all brooding."

"Do I at least look good brooding?" Hawke asked.

"I meant Fenris, you're not brooding, sweetness. You're... yearning."

"I'd say sulking," Varric added unhelpfully, picking up the cards that Isabela set in front of him.

"You're both not the best for advice," Hawke said. "In love with a ship and a crossbow."

"Bianca's not just a crossbow," Varric replied automatically, going so far as to stroke the thing, resting against his chair.

Isabela, damn her, had caught the slip. "Love?"

Hawke picked up his cards loudly and breathed out. "Turn of phrase."

"Sure," Varric said, making Hawke think maybe he'd caught the slip from the start.

"Are we going to play or not?" Hawke asked, waving the cards in his hand without showing their faces.

"I miss my ship," Isabela said with a dreamy little sigh. "I almost had a new one..."

"Remember the Arishok? Better yet, remember the broken bones?" Hawke raised an eyebrow at her. "The bleeding... internally, externally, all over the floor?"

"Are you still on about that?" Isabela shook her head at him. "Honestly, you mull too much on things. It's not good for you."

"Yes, I'm generally known for my long process of thinking things over."

That earned a laugh from both of them, even if it was self-directed and their attention finally returned to the game.


	7. Chapter 7

"Why is it so dark down here?" Hawke asked, realizing the moment he said it the answer was clear. "Oh wait, _that's_ why they call it Darktown!"

"Easy, Hawke," Varric said. "You might get a second concussion with heavy thinking like that."

"Thinking is sexy," Hawke replied, leaning too heavily on Isabela as they made their way towards the clinic.

"Head wounds aren't," Isabela said, huffing with the exertion. "Once you're recovered we are going to have a talk about this senseless need to _help_ everyone we run into."

"It was supposed to be a lovely day trip," Hawke said, blinking fast. The stars dancing in front of his eyes played a nice balance to darkness of streets. "No one said, oh yes and by the way your miners were eaten by a dragon!"

"We should've asked Fenris or Aveline along," Varric muttered.

"Lovely day trip," Hawke said again. "From now on, I will prepare for dragons at every turn. Watch out!" He said as they came around a corner. "Dragon!"

The dirty-faced human woman speaking with Anders that Hawke could not remember the name of looked up at him with confusion. Anders rushed over.

"What happened?"

"Dragon," Hawke said, blinking again as blood dripped into his eye. "Didn't I just say that?"

Anders hand was on his forehead which felt fine until the fog started to clear and then it stung incredibly sharp and he let out a hiss of pain as the magic stitched his head back into place, both literally and figuratively.

"Get inside," Anders said.

"I like you bossy," Hawke said.

"It isn't a bad look," Isabela agreed.

Anders was being a spoilsport so he ignored them, manhandling Hawke onto one of his rickety cots, while Isabela let out a too loud groan of relief now that she was free of supporting him.

"Not in front of Varric," Hawke chided as Anders unlaced the laces on Hawke's shoulder. "He'll write it down and make a fortune."

"Why would you fight a dragon by yourself?" Anders asked, ignoring his bait.

"Do you all honestly think I expected a dragon to show up? I _am_ amazing, but I can't predict the future."

Anders sighed and finished pulling the top of Hawke's robes off, or he would have, if they hadn't been burnt directly to Hawke's skin. "Andraste's flaming tits!" Hawke swore. "Heal the head wound last, Anders, then at least I won't feel it."

"We should have asked Broody to come along," Varric said again. "Trouble finds wherever you're headed and sets up station."

"Dragon," Hawke repeated. "Dra-gon."

"Stop moving," Anders said, sharply. "This--did you throw yourself _at_ the dragon?"

"Only a little," Isabela replied, unhelpfully.

"Not entirely on purpose," Varric added with a laugh.

Anders didn't laugh, so Hawke didn't either. His head had cleared enough to read the room and remember that things between he and Anders hadn't been on the best terms lately. If he'd ever been in a situation where _not_ sleeping with someone lead to awkwardness he might have known what to say to fix it.

"You only just healed from the Arishok," Anders said, sharply. "You shouldn't be throwing yourself at dragons. Let the--let someone with better armor do that."

"Or avoid dragons all together," Isabela said. "Always a good idea. Treasure horde from the dragons, yes, dragons themselves, no-no."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Rivaini?" Varric asked.

"I left it on the spot where the dragon melted my favorite dagger."

"Is it dead?" Anders asked, dropping his hands to his sides and moving across the room to gather some elfroot. He wasn't looking directly at Hawke.

"Bianca managed to clip the wing," Varric said, smugly.

"Because I threw my dagger at its eye," Isabela retorted.

"We should probably finish it off," Hawke said rubbing his mostly healed shoulder. "Can't have Varric writing a story about how we half-killed a dragon."

"This time _with_ Broody," Varric added.

"And without me," Isabela chimed in almost immediately after.

"You're saying you _don't_ want to see Fenris covered in dragon's blood?" Hawke couldn't help say with a grin.

Isabela seemed to think that over. "I guess I can watch. You can ask Sebastian along as well, to do the actual fighting. I'll pick over the shiny jewels after."

"You're unbelievable," Anders said, sharply. "Your blood is still dripping down your forehead and you're talking about going back for glory? There are so many other things that could use your attention and you care about a dragon story?" He slammed the elfroot container down sharply. "The mages, your people, are being corralled like slaves by something much worse than a dragon. Surely you've noticed how much power Meredith has been gaining since the Viscount died?"

"As an apostate, I tend to avoid the Knight-Commander whenever possible," Hawke said.

"You're more than an apostate, you're the 'Champion'--you could make all the difference if you'd only give your support to the mages," Anders said. "Your people."

It was petty of Hawke to be irritated that Anders was upset about this and not being rejected. He gave himself credit for at least recognizing that his irritation was petty.

"Isn't it exhausting to be _on_ all the time, Anders?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Anders said, darkly. He turned to shuffle more bottles useless. "I'm busy, you're healed. You should leave."

Hawke let him have the last word and pushed off the cot, leaving the clinic much faster than they entered it.

"Well that was awkward," Varric said once they were outside.

Hawke made himself laugh to pretend that it wasn't.


	8. Chapter 8

"You finished it already?" Hawke asked.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

"I didn't think I was that good a teacher," Hawke said with a laugh. "I should add it to my resume. Champion of Kirkwall, Apostate Mage, Reader-Teacher."

Fenris tapped his fingers against the book. "Sebastian assisted me with some rudimentary writing lessons. They have helped a great deal when it comes to reading."

Hawke _knew_ that Chantry bastard wasn't really celibate. He was biding his time, waiting to lean over Fenris with ink smudged fingers and whisper sexy words of Andraste's devotion.

"Fantastic," Hawke said, lying through his teeth. "At least you'll know how to write the Chant, maybe a reward poster for vengeance too. Next thing you know, you'll be writing up your own anti-Mage manifesto to stick over Anders'."

"I can think of better uses for my time," Fenris said, frowning.

So could Hawke. He could picture Fenris and Sebastian getting each other out of that armor. Shine and bluster. It could be the new subject for one of Varric's serials. Runaway Tevinter slave and the Chantry Prince. Was so much more interesting than love-sick orphan mage pining for a year and a half.

And so what? The little voice that sounded too much like Bethany said in his mind. If Fenris was happy with Sebastian, didn't he owe it to him to be happy for him? Well that was a stretch, he could pretend to be happy for them.

Not that they were a them. It was entirely possible this dramatic fiction was all in Hawke's head. Relief was not what he should have been feeling.

"Sebastian could teach you reading too, not that you need much help. You're getting well enough to manage on your own." Hawke couldn't remember being taught himself, too early on for that, but he remembered Father and Mother teaching the twins and how that didn't stop them from sneaking into his room at night to have him read under the covers, magic illuminating the darkness.

Wouldn't do to think about that or remember what Fenris was like under the covers.

"I am," Fenris agreed, frowning. He looked confused, but Hawke wasn't going to spell it out for him or get into an argument where he'd have to.

"Then take what you need," Hawke said, gesturing to the library. "And take your time. I have to... Aveline asked for my help with something, I had almost forgotten. You know what she's like when you're late."

"When has that stopped you?" Fenris asked.

Fenris didn't sound like he forced the humor, the ease that they'd slid back into. It was a good thing. Hawke wanted them to be friends again if they couldn't be anything else. He wasn't... he wasn't yearning. Or jealous, of handsome blue-eyed exiled princes.

"I have to pick my moments with her. And you'll choose better if I'm not in your hair." His sweet smelling, pure white, lyrium-infused hair. Hawke forced a smile for Fenris and turned to walk down the stairs, taking them two at a time until he was towards the front of the estate.

He probably should have gone to see Aveline, in case her husband ratted him out, but the moment his feet hit the cobblestone path outside Hawke found himself headed for Lowtown. It was about time the Blooming Rose met his coin again. Then maybe he could stop thinking about punching Sebastian in his face for absolutely no reason, for at least an hour.


	9. Chapter 9

"It is very drafty in here, I have never noticed," Hawke said, using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Fenris.

"You've never been without clothes here," Fenris said and oh did he sound _satisfied_ , it was probably the best noise in the entire world. Even with splinters in his ass from this abandoned hovel Fenris was squatting in, Hawke was over the moon.

"Does that mean you noticed it was drafty before this?" Hawke asked. "No, don't tell me, I don't want to ruin the idea of you dancing naked around the halls."

Fenris chuckled, it shook his bare shoulders a little and Hawke felt the vibration between their skin. Maker, had he ever felt _this_ good?

"I know it is an epic understatement to say that you are not the biggest fan of magic, but may I offer a counterpoint?" Hawke said, kissing the tip of Fenris's ear and reveling in the fact that he was kissing the tip of Fenris's ear and not sitting alone at home trying not to think about doing that.

"I'm going to regret saying this, but go on."

"I can restart the fire from here without having to let go," Hawke said. His back was to one of the uneven chairs and Fenris was leaning back against his chest, lyrium etched skin glowing a little in the dimming fire.

The silence was long, but the evenness of Fenris's breathing as he thought it over, the fact that he didn't stiffen in Hawke's arms made it worth it. "Don't make it a habit."

Hawke kissed the back of Fenris's neck and then spread his fingers at the base of the elf's ribs before stretching his other hand and allowing the fire to reheat. It was an easy, base spell, one of the first his father had taught him on the run. The warmth from the fire spread, but it was still a little drafty so Hawke also summoned a blanket from the bed they hadn't made it to, to cover them.

"Hawke," Fenris said. It was his annoyed voice.

Hawke covered them both with the blanket. "I know, I will miss the view too."

Fenris shook his head and then leaned back against him. "You will be the death of me."

"I think we both had a few deaths tonight," Hawke replied, grinning over Fenris's head.

"Mm," Fenris said, which was as much an answer as anything. His long, gauntlet free fingers traced little circles over Hawke's wrists and Hawke for once was content to enjoy the comfortable silence only punctuated by the crack of the fireplace and Fenris's even breathing. He was certain that Fenris was going to fall asleep and then Hawke would have to decide if the Maker's worst backache was worth not moving them from this position, but then Fenris spoke.

"Three years is a long time."

"You're telling me," Hawke said, but was too happy to feel anything about it at the moment.

"I meant..." Fenris trailed off, then cleared his throat.

"How you're managing to be awkward at a moment like this is beyond me, but do carry on, your neck is starting to warm up and I think I like it."

"You are not a man to spend this time alone, Hawke," Fenris said without stuttering as if to spite him. "Have there been others?"

"I'm not a monk, Fenris," Hawke answered. "Or Sebastian, who I am still unconvinced isn't having an affair with the Grand Cleric."

Fenris didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes. Hawke had been watching him closely enough and seething over what time he spent with handsome Chantry archer to likely catch if there'd been anyone for Fenris. He hoped there wasn’t, even if it made him a giant hypocrite.

"You didn't... I _thought_ you didn't want me, so I didn't sit around waiting, it wasn't because I didn't want to, but that implies something, doesn't it?" Maker’s breath, and now _he_ was the one rambling. "I... I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to. Waiting felt like an expectation. That your choice didn't matter."

"That is... an interesting perspective," Fenris said, but he sounded more thoughtful than annoyed. His fingers tapped against Hawke's wrist as if he wanted to ask something else.

"You spent time with Isabela," Fenris seemed to settle on, but something about the way he said it didn't seem like the thing he wanted to say.

"I always spend time with Isabela. I understand her, she's... it's easier to be at ease than it is to center yourself completely in someone. That’s a risk bigger than stealing from Qunari."

"I see."

Hawke sighed. "No, you don't. I'd rather it be hard with you than easy with anyone else. And don't think leaving out the obvious entendre there isn't killing me."

It was hard to tell if the little bark from Fenris's throat was a chuckle or a scoff.

"I did try to woo Varric," Hawke couldn't help add after a moment. If he didn't say something ridiculous, he'd say something that might scare Fenris off again, like 'I love you, you stupid elf.' "He still seems so put-off by the idea, I can't imagine why."

Fenris's hands slipped to Hawke's legs and slid up his thighs. "He needs his hands free to write."

"Well if we want him to write about this, we'll need more practice. I'm not terribly good with descriptions."

That was definitely a chuckle, paired with Fenris's hands changing their trajectory, it might have been the best sound in the world.


End file.
